Wherein Obscurely
by IndianSummer
Summary: All the survivors have their secrets. However, Shannon's at the center of the most explosive one. (ShannonSawyer, hints of earlier ShannonBoone). Spoilers for 1x13: "Hearts and Minds," airing 01.12.2005.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Wherein Obscurely  
**Author: **Indian Summer  
**Summary: **Everyone on the island has their secrets. Shannon, however, happens to be at the center of the most explosive one. (Shannon/Sawyer, hints of past Shannon/Boone) SPOILER warning for 1x13: Hearts and Minds.  
**Dislaimer**: I do not own "Lost," have any affiliation with it, its writers, or the wonderful actors on it. "Wherein Obscurely" is the title of a Pernice Brothers song, written by none other than the amazing Joe Pernice. I also have no affiliation with Michael Keaton, and the similarity of any original character to someone in reality, whether in namesake, personality, or behavior, is purely coincidental. Phone numbers are purely fictional, although the area code is not. This is for my enjoyment only, and I do not profit off of this is any way.**  
Note: **Flashbacks won't be as frequent in future chapters.  
**Prologue  
**.  
.  
.  


Present Day

Encompassed by silence, Shannon Rutherford felt oddly comfortable as she sat on the beach watching the sun set.

In her real life- that is, the one off this godforsaken island- Shannon had always been surrounded by noise, whether it be the pounding of a club or the feedback at a party.

Her penchant for silence surprised her even more than the fact that she'd survived the crash in the first place.

"Well if this ain't just postcard pretty."

So much for silence. Shannon didn't bother to turn her head, instead bringing her knees to her chest as a cool breeze reached her. "What do you want, Sawyer?"

"Just think about it, Sticks. Remember those TV commercials, with the pretty girls on a tropical beach? The 'destination' ones? You're like something right out of one."

Shannon arched an eyebrow at this, cocking her head slightly so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. "I doubt anyone would be here by choice."

Sawyer chuckled as he settled down next to her. "I'll give you that."

Returning her gaze to the horizon, Shannon sighed. "You still haven't answered my question."

She could feel his eyes on her. "Don't want anything. 'Least nothing a girl like you would give me."

Shannon scrunched up her nose. "You're a pig, Sawyer." Shannon's eyes widened when he started to laugh quietly. "_What?_"

"Sticks, that's the third time I 'eard that today."

"Well, you are," Shannon offered back lamely, frowning at him.

"Better a pig than a spoiled brat," Sawyer whistled.

Shannon hugged her legs to her chest, trying to ignore the comment.  
.  
.  
.

**September 21, 2004  
Sydney, Australia**

Shannon tensed from her position on the bed as her hotel room door was flung open with so much force it bounced off the side wall and started to close again.

Boone stood in the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Shannon. "Do you ever do _anything_ for yourself?" he asked angrily, looking wildly around the room. "God, have you even started to pack?"

Shannon sighed, adjusting the hem of her blue halter. "I'm not going anywhere yet. I have a party to go to tomorrow night-"

"Well, call Susie or Sally or whatever the hell her name is, and tell her you can't make it. We're flying out first thing in the morning." Boone shook his head, storming across the room and opening a dresser drawer.

Shannon gripped the bedspread as she watched him, confused by his behavior. "Why are you so mad?"

His hand froze on the dresser door and he turned slowly to look at her, the anger melting out of his face. "Look, Shan, I'm just... I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose." He stood on the other side of the room awkwardly, before swearing under his breath and approaching the bed. "I just want to get you out of here. Get you home safe."

She could feel his gaze on her forehead as he sat down next to her and it caused the bruise to twinge slightly. "I didn't do it on purpose," she muttered, not meeting his gaze.

Boone sighed and brought the back of his hand to her chin, running his thumb over her jaw line in a comforting gesture. "I know. I'm just stressed out and tired and jetlagged. I didn't mean..." He trailed off, offering her a sad smile. "I just can't believe it happened again."

Her jaw started to tremble and she could feel tears burning at her eyes, helpless to stop their release. "I'm sorry," she cried, looking up at Boone. As she felt his arms wrap around her and he pulled her close, she looked over his shoulder. And smiled.  
.  
.  
.

Present Day

Sometime between boarding the plane and crashing into the island, Shannon had realized just how greatly her relationship with Boone had changed. Gone were the lingering glances and the flirty smiles, the kind words and the shoulder squeezes.

The only remnant of their past was the tension, and even that had seemed to have changed. Passion no longer drove it; in its place was anger and distrust.

Although the swing of her hips and the way her toes dug into the sand could be misconstrued as a leisurely walk along the beach, Shannon knew otherwise. It was just a way to avoid him.

She could feel Sawyer's eyes still on her, though, and she knew him well enough to know he'd pick up on her discomfort if she continued to avoid Boone, and he'd thrive off of it. Heaving a sigh and running her fingers through her hair, she trudged toward the dark-haired man, her feet suddenly tired and heavy, her gait similar to that of someone approaching the gallows.

Boone barely looked at her as she sat down. "You shouldn't be talking to him," he muttered, flipping a page in a comic book Walt had lent him. "He's trouble, Shannon."

Shannon suppressed a grimace. That was another thing; Boone had started calling her by her full name, something he'd never done before. "I know. But I can take care of myself."

Boone let out a harsh laugh. "I think we've already had this conversation, over fish and Charlie's ego."

"That was..." Shannon huffed. "I _can_, Boone. I think you'd be surprised if you knew just how well I can."  
.  
.  
.

**September 20, 2004  
Sydney, Australia**

Shannon didn't like to be kept waiting. She looked around the lobby impatiently for the fifteenth time in half as many minutes, tapping her nails against the side bar. There was still no sign of him.

She turned her head just in time to catch a man behind the front desk shooting her a concerned look and offered him a flirty smile. "Hi."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Uh, hello. Are you, uh, looking for someone, Miss Rutherford?"

Shannon bit her lip and nodded casually. "I'm looking for a Dorian Adams. Has he checked in?"

Shannon had never hit a deer before, but she was pretty sure the look this guy was giving her was the reason the phrase 'deer in the headlights' existed. "Uh, I'm not at liberty to discuss the guests of the hotel."

She'd been expecting this, of course. Pursing her lips, Shannon approached the man cautiously, letting her eyes flit over his body in what she hoped was an approving glance. "Look... Jacob... I'm not trying to stalk him or anything. He was supposed to meet me here. You don't need to give me his room number or anything, if you don't want to. I just want to know whether or not he's here."

Jacob glanced back and forth nervously between Shannon and his computer. "Uh..."

Shannon smiled prettily for him.

Sighing, Jacob nodded. "Sure, Miss Rutherford. I'll check it now." He tore his gaze off her long enough to type something into the computer before nodding. "Yeah, he's here. I could call him, if you'd like."

"That would be lovely. Thank you."  
.  
.  
.

Present Day

"What's that supposed to mean?" Boone asked, thrown off by her comment. "I _have_ seen you, and you can't take care of yourself."

Shannon shook her head. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything by it, Boone. But stop thinking of yourself as God's friggin' gift to humanity. I didn't ask for you to come to Australia in the first place."

Boone raised an eyebrow and Shannon could read the 'you've got to be kidding me' that enveloped his features. "Am I making up the phone call? Where you called me at 3 AM and told me all about your latest prick of a boyfriend, and told me you thought he was going to kill you? Am I making that up?"

Shannon shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh, that's rich, Shan." Boone shifted onto his stomach and cocked his head to look at her. "Because you're suddenly Miss Honesty?"

"I didn't say that."

"God, I shouldn't even have come to get you in the first place. I swear whenever you're around, bad things happen."

Shannon laughed. "Are you blaming the plane crash on _me?_" she asked, her voice taking on an oddly whiny quality.

"No," Boone spat, shaking his head vehemently. "All I'm saying, _Shannon,_ is that even for you, it's awfully suspicious that you would've hooked up with four abusive boyfriends _this year._ God, I swear you do it just to get back at me."

Shannon paled and her hand jumped out to smack him but she froze mid-swing and shook her head. "You're not even worth it, Boone," she muttered, turning on her heals and stomping away.  
.  
.  
.

**September 20, 2004  
Sydney, Australia**

"For someone supposedly so adept at the game, it took you a long time to get here," an unfamiliar voice greeted Shannon as she slid into room 403.

Shannon frowned as she glanced at the brown haired man stretched out on a double bed in front of her. "Where's Chris?"

The man sat up and snickered. "_Dorian_, Shannon, not Chris. You know how he is about using his real name."

"Whatever. Where is he." Shannon crossed her arms over her chest nervously, wondering if this had been a bad idea after all. "And who the hell are you?"

"Michael Keaton."

Shannon rolled her eyes. "God, what's with everyone and the fake names? You're all so paranoid. I can assure you, the guy's a fool. He won't figure it out."

"Not warming up my blood, sugar," the man said, sitting up. "Chris sent me here to finish off the deal."

Shannon bit her lip as she glanced around the room. "The 'deal' didn't include third parties."

"Yeah, well, it does now. Chris is in jail."

Shannon's eyes widened immediately and a small gasp escaped her. "_What?_ That was not part of the plan."

"Well, the mark? Wasn't as stupid as you told us he was. He filed abuse charges."

Steeling her jaw, Shannon sat down on the corner of the bed. "So what did Chris tell you to do? How do I fix this?"

The man searched her face for a minute before shrugging. "I only see one possible solution."

It wasn't until his fist made contact with her forehead that Shannon realized how much trouble she was in.  
.  
.  
.

Present Day

"Shannon!" Hurley shouted.

Shannon could hear him approaching quickly, but she didn't bother to stop walking. She knew she must be drawing a lot of attention to herself, running through wet sand in a $300 skirt and plowing by anyone who got in her way.

Somehow, though, she'd stopped caring about her image.

"Shannon, what are you doing?" Hurley asked as he caught up to her, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm.

"Going for a walk," Shannon muttered sullenly, silently wishing it had been anyone but Hurley who'd stopped her. Hurley was the only person she'd feel guilty for disappointing right now.

"Well, that's all, uh, daisies and stuff, but in case you forgot, the last time a girl wandered off alone she got _kidnapped._"

Shannon frowned. "Claire was with Charlie, and Kate's wandered off by herself a hundred times since then."

Hurley opened his mouth to respond but ended up shaking his head instead. "Still."

Shannon sighed, pulling her arm away from Hurley. "Look. I know you're just trying to be the campy stand-up guy, but some of us have real issues. Issues that could cause us to _kill_ someone if we don't have a little alone time," she said, pushing past Hurley and continuing along the shore.

As she half-jogged along the water's edge, she heard Hurley call out from behind her, "_Who_ says I don't have issues!... Ugh, just don't go into the woods!"  
.  
.  
.

**September 17, 2004  
Sydney, Australia**

Her hands were steady as she poured the tea and offered a cup to the man sitting across from her. "I'm going to call my brother in a few minutes. I need to make sure you're ready for the job."

Chris received the coffee from her graciously and nodded. "I'm not a newcomer to this. At home I made a lot of money for myself off of stuff like this."

Shannon frowned. "Not exactly like this. From what you've said, you were mostly involved in financial scams- business things. This is equal part physical, emotional, and financial. And he _will_ hear your voice."

Chris' lips curved up in a confident smirk and he nodded. "All that means is I have to make sure he doesn't hear me in person. I can handle that."

Shannon nodded. "And have you ever punched a girl before?"

"That will be a first," he admitted.

"I figured. We have a little time for that. I'm estimating my brother will find a plane out within a few hours of the call, and be here by tomorrow afternoon. Assuming everything goes according to plan, as I'm sure it will, you will receive a check for forty to sixty thousand dollars. We'll meet at the Westin Hotel at 6 PM three days from now. You'll register a room under the pseudonym 'Dorian Adams' and there, we'll split the money. We'll have no contact afterward."

"Sounds good," Chris nodded.

"When I call, act angry. Smash things around. Whatever. We'll have the money to replace whatever you break. Sound muted, like you're not right next to me. Just make it seem real." Shannon pursed her lips before reaching for her phone. Dialing a number, she offered Chris a smile. "Yes, can you connect me to Manhattan, New York, USA, please? I'd like to speak to Boone Windsor... Yes, I have the number. 1-212-555-5025."

Shannon grinned as the dispatch went through and Chris started grumbling.

"Shannon?" she heard Boone's voice through the static.

Forcing tears, she cried, "Oh, God, Boone! I need your help. I don't know what to do."

He sounded tense, worried. "Shannon? Is that you? Where are you?"

"I'm in Sydney," Shannon whimpered, winking at Chris. "I- Boone, I hooked up with this guy. He hit me again today. I- I think he wants to kill me, Boone. He keeps threatening me and- and...." She trailed off, allowing herself to break down into tears. "I need your help, Boone."

"Okay, okay, Shannon," Boone said, his voice sweetly reassuring. "I'm looking for a flight as we speak. Just get away from him, okay? Check into some cheap hotel, somewhere he wouldn't expect you to be. I'll call your cell from the airport and we'll figure it out when I get there. Everything will be okay, Shannon. I love you."

"Thanks, Boone. I'm so sorry," Shannon sniffled.

"Shhh. It will be okay, Shan. I'm going to go now, pack some stuff and get out of here. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Just get away from him?

"Okay... Bye, Boone."

"Bye, Shan."

Shannon smiled as she heard the click and glanced over at Chris. "So who should I have him make that check out to?"

Chris smiled, pushing a strand of shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes. "Chris. Chris Sawyer."  
.  
.  
.


	2. Christmas Eve, 2001

Title: Wherein Obscurely

Author: Indian Summer

Summary: Everyone on the island has their secrets. Shannon, however, happens to be at the center of the most explosive one. (Shannon/Sawyer, hints of past Shannon/Boone)

Dislaimer: I do not own "Lost," have any affiliation with it, its writers, or the wonderful actors on it. "Wherein Obscurely" is the title of a Pernice Brothers song, written by none other than the amazing Joe Pernice. I also have no affiliation with Michael Keaton, and the similarity of any original character to someone in reality, whether in namesake, personality, or behavior, is purely coincidental. Phone numbers are purely fictional, although the area code is not. This is for my enjoyment only, and I do not profit off of this is any way.

Notes: This was started before 1x13- "Hearts and Minds," so it's technically AU, although still within the realm of possibility.

Chapter Title: Christmas Eve, 2001  
.  
.  
.

Present Day

It had been a long time since the feel of sand between her toes had comforted Shannon. She sat on the beach and dug her toes into the wet sand along the shore's edge as she looked out at the horizon, willing a ship to appear.

Of course, none did.

"Shannon?" The voice was hesitant and carried a heavy accent.

She cocked her head to see Sayid standing a good ten feet from her, map in hand, and smiled. "I don't bite. At least not on a good day."

He returned her smile and stepped forward, still not invading her personal space like she was so used to from guys like Boone and Sawyer, or even Jack. "Did you need help translating?"

As Sayid shook his head, Shannon wished she could use some Frederic Fekkai on his hair. The curls she'd once envied were starting to look dull. "No. I think I figured out the map."

"Oh." She scrambled to her feet and Sayid's side. "What are we going to do?"

Sayid glanced down at her and shook his head. "I'm going to finish mapping out the island. You're going to stay here."

"You don't stop Kate from going off into the jungle," Shannon pouted, pulling a map out of Sayid's hand. "So what did you figure out?"

"Kate can hold her own. She grew up in the woods, I think." Sayid pointed to the edge of the island on the map. "From what I can tell, it's a skewed perspective. If you were looking at the island from a boat out at sea, you would see it differently."

Shannon nodded. "So you think the French woman drew the map before she came to the island? Then how will it help with-"

Sayid shook his head. "She might have drew-_ drawn-_ the outline of the island before. But the features are too exact. Like here," he pointed to a spot a bit further inland, "Those are the caves Jack found."

She'd forgotten English wasn't his first language, but she tossed the thought aside and pointed to a spot further in. "Would that be Sawyer's waterfall, then?"

Suddenly alert, Sayid's head snapped up. "Sawyer found a waterfall?"

Shannon's stomach dropped as she realized she wasn't supposed to know about it, much less be telling other people. "Uh, he mentioned something like that, while Kate was flipping out over the briefcase."

"Oh. Okay." Sayid's lips were drawn into a thin line and Shannon could tell he was frustrated with not having known about the waterfall. "Alright, so what I'm thinking is if it's a skewed perspective, then everything more inward in here," he went on, pointing to a spot near the right side of the map, "and rounder out here," he added as his finger trailed across the paper.

"Which would make the triangle what? Further inland?"

Sayid nodded.

"I want to come," Shannon said stubbornly, handing Sayid back the map.

Sayid opened his mouth to protest but, as if realizing Shannon wouldn't give in, nodded. "We'll leave tonight," he murmured before turning and walking off.

Shannon watched him go before turning her gaze back to the ocean and frowned. Staying on this island was slowly driving her mad, and it was starting to show. She never would've agreed to trek into a dangerous jungle, let alone _argued_ to join in the trip.  
.  
.  
.

When Sawyer approached her, Shannon was eating lunch- or rather stabbing her slab of fish with a plastic fork.

"You better be careful, Sweetcheeks," Sawyer said, dropping a water bottle into the sand next to her.

Shooting him a curious look, Shannon picked up the water bottle and twisted the cap. "Of what?"

Sawyer gestured to the signal fire, where Sayid and Charlie sat. "Didja know an Iraqi soldier wouldn't think twice of rapin' a pretty girl like you?"

Shannon rolled her eyes. "Thanks for your concern, but Sayid's not like that."

"Or that's what he wants you to think." Sawyer kicked some sand off to Shannon's side and grinned down at her. "I'm just looking out for you."

"And why's that?" Shannon asked, a silent challenge in her gaze.

Sawyer held her gaze steadily. "Well, lets just say there's things you have that I want. And things you know that I don't want anyone else knowin'."

"Like Kate?" Shannon arched an eyebrow.

"Among others," Sawyer responded elusively, casting his gaze down the beach. "Where's your brother?"

"Boone's off somewhere. Didn't you hear? He's Locke's new boyfriend."

Sawyer chuckled. "An' here I was thinkin' he was moonin' after Jack."

"Not likely," Shannon muttered, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Oh, right. He don't swing that way, do he? You'd be proof of that."

Shannon glanced around nervously. "I told you not to bring that up."

"Since when do I take orders from a girl?"

"Since this girl could tell Jack about an encounter you had with his father."

Eyes narrowed to slits, Sawyer lowered his voice. "Hero doesn't need to know everything."

"I know," Shannon nodded. "And everyone on this beach doesn't need to know about my... past with my brother."  
.  
.  
.

Christmas Eve, 2001  
Manhattan, New York

Although it was a warm 82 degrees inside the penthouse apartment, Shannon couldn't help but shiver as she stared at the bay window at the snow swirling in the street.

She mindlessly twirled a strand of reddish brown hair around her index finger as she thought of her future.

She'd learned earlier that week of her acceptance to Harvard College, but that was not the thought that preoccupied her mind.

"Hey, baby," she heard whispered into her ear, seconds before finding herself enveloped in her boyfriend's arms.

She leaned back and smiled at him, brushing a strand of his dark hair out of his eyes as she spoke. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it, Ben."

"And miss seeing Sabrina Carlyle lose her head over mismatching china? No way."

Shannon snickered, turning around in Ben's arms to kiss the tip of his nose. "I'm just happy you're here."

Ben nodded and looked around, almost a little uncomfortable. "Where's your brother?"

Shannon heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Around. Here I am trying to kiss you and you're asking about my _brother?_"

Laughing, Ben dropped a kiss on Shannon's forehead before stepping back. "He wanted to talk to me the other day, but I was running late for work so he told me to find him at the party."

"Fine," Shannon pouted, squeezing Ben's hand. "Find me later, okay? I'm not sure how much of this I can... deal with... alone."

He started to walk away backwards as he offered her a reassuring smile. "Give me fifteen minutes."  
.  
.  
.

Present Day

Shannon shielded her eyes from the sun with a hand as Michael pointed to a piece of metal from the plane. "We want to put those on the front of the reeds, to hold them all together. But try to find thin pieces, so they aren't overwhelmingly heavy."

Bending down next to the metal, Shannon ran her hand over it, nodding. "How are they going to stay on?"

Michael didn't meet her gaze and was quiet for a long minute. "Caked mud and ropes."

Aside from her nose scrunching in disgust, Shannon cast aside his words and got to work, gathering the metal.

"You don't need to help with this part. There's plenty you can do later- covering the reeds with a tarp, attaching the cushions in the chairs-"

"No, it's okay." Shannon glanced off in the direction her brother and Locke had disappeared in a few hours previous. "I'm not as useless as some people say."

Michael nodded, clearly made uncomfortable by her comment. "Right. Uh, my boy should be back in a minute. He went with Sayid to gather some stuff for the fire."

"Fire?" Shannon raised an eyebrow. "I thought Sayid had given up on the whole signal fire thing."

"Not completely. But this fire's to weld. Sayid says he knows a way to get it hot enough so we can bend the metal.  
.  
.  
.

Christmas Eve, 2001

Manhattan, New York

A few minutes after Ben had disappeared, Shannon's stepmother, Sabrina Carlyle, had pulled Shannon from the window and over to the fireplace, where a group of forty-something socialites were talking about some scandal or another.

Shannon rolled her eyes as Sabrina pulled her down onto a sofa. "Andrea," Sabrina addressed one of the woman in a haughty British accent, "I think it's been a while since you've seen our dear Shannon. Hasn't she grown up lovely?"

"Positively," Andrea responded, smiling at Shannon. "How old are you, dear?"

Shannon cleared her throat. "Seventeen."

"The last time I saw you I think you were eleven or twelve. Your brother used to pick on you something awful."

Shannon caught Boone's gaze as he walked by, and he seemed to freeze for a second before rushing through the room. "He still does, actually."

The women around the hearth laughed politely as Shannon stared at the doorway to the dining room Boone had disappeared through. That was odd. Shannon started to stand. "Can you excuse me? I have to go take care of something."

"Sure, sure, go ahead, darling," Andrea waved her away, smiling slightly. "I'm sure you have better things to do than talk to a group of middle-aged women."

"Not really," Shannon muttered under her breath as she made her way past the sofa. She started toward the dining room but was stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Shannon, hey."

She turned to find Ben and smiled, letting herself melt into his arms. "Where'd you go?" she asked, kissing him lightly on the lips. "You said fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, uh," Ben murmured, pulling away, "Can we go talk?"

Shannon froze, crossing her arms over her chest. "About what?"

"Can we go to your room?" Ben muttered, not meeting her gaze.

Shannon looked around nervously and nodded. "Yeah, yeah," she said, taking Ben's hand and pulling him through the crowd.

"Look, Shan-" Ben said as they reached Shannon's room.

Shannon smiled and shut the door behind them before bringing herself flush against Ben, kissing along his jawline. "I was worried for a minute," she murmured, bringing her lips to his. "But you just wanted to be alone with me, hmm?" She swept her tongue over Ben's lips and he opened his mouth, allowing entrance, as he kissed her back.

Then he was pulling away, wiping his lips with his left hand as he did. "No, Shannon, I'm serious. We need to talk."

Shannon snickered, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. "There's time for that later."

"No," he pushed her away and rebuttoned his shirt. "We can't do this."

Shannon blinked. "What did my brother say to you?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with him. I just..." Ben trailed off, finally meeting Shannon's gaze. "Shan, I can't do this anymore."

Shannon's eyes narrowed. "And what's _this_, exactly?"

Ben sighed. "Look, Boone told me about your... condition," Ben said, looking Shannon up and down as if she were defective. "And I just- I just can't handle it. I'm sorry. And anyway, it's not mine _to_ handle, is it? I'm sure you'll work it out."

Shannon watched as he walked out of the room and blinked back her tears. She glanced over at the family portrait on her wall and stared at the smiling Boone, letting a single tear slip down her cheek. "What did you do, Boone?" she asked angrily, picking a bottle of perfume off of her bureau and throwing it at the painting. "What did you tell him?"  
.  
.  
.


End file.
